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LUCKY TO LIVE
WHERE WE LIVE
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I am a weather wimp. Born and raised in San Francisco, I have
lived all my life in a moderate climate, not too hot, not too cold. And
after spending a tortuous (for weather wimps) eight days in the deep South
last week, I appreciate it more than ever.
Specifically, I spent four days in Charleston, South Carolina,
and then another four days in Hilton Head, South Carolina. Lovely places,
except for hurricanes, tornadoes, thunderstorms, oppressive humidity, and,
just to add some excitement, alligators.
This is not a travel column, so I'm not here to extol the
virtues of South Carolina, of which there are many, from the restaurants in
Charleston to the beaches at Hilton Head, along with some of the friendliest
people you'll ever meet, accents included.
No, I'm here to talk about the weather, and how fortunate all
of us who live in Northern California should feel. Sometimes we forget, and
all it takes is one summer trip to an area like the deep South to remember
how lucky we are in comparison.
As a certified weather wimp, I couldn't imagine living there. I
like to look forward to summer weather, and it seems no one in South
Carolina looks forward to the summers. Everyone I talked to was dreading the
heat and humidity that, even though it was only early June, was rearing its
ugly head.
Heat and humidity are a miserable combination. Separately, even
weather wimps like myself can deal with it. Dry heat---I'm not a fan but I
can handle it. Humidity---while New Orleans is #1, guess which
metropolitan area is ranked 6th for the highest humidity in the country?
Yep, San Francisco. Humidity is the amount of water vapor in the air, and
our fog is full of it.
Put the two together, though, and you've got a recipe for
sticky, suffocating, sweat-inducing weather. And a good chunk of our country
deals with it every day for months on end.
Most of us in the Bay Area can't even handle our two or three
heat waves per year. Complaints and whining roll in. Imagine having
temperatures in the 90's and 100's every day, with at least a 75% humidity
factor. I experienced it for a week, and had trouble with it. When I
mentioned it to a local, they warned that it was only going to get worse.
Instead of being pleasurable, the summer becomes an ordeal.
Add 64 days of thunderstorms, mostly in the summer, 14
tornadoes a year, and an occasional hurricane, and you've got a weather
wonderland in South Carolina. A wonderland I'd rather be far, far away from.
At least there's air conditioning. Surprisingly, even though it
was invented in 1902, only 10% of U.S. households had air conditioning in
1965. Now it's more like 90%. Smart move for South Carolina, as long as you
don't go outside.
As a tourist, though, I had to go outside to see the sights.
After sweating through multiple changes of clothes while walking the
beautiful streets of Charleston, I looked forward to driving the two hours
in our air-conditioned car to the beaches of Hilton Head, where the cooling
breezes of the Atlantic would be a welcome relief.
Apparently, it doesn't work that way. There were some breezes,
but it felt more like the breeze when you open your dryer door right when
the buzzer sounds. Relief was nowhere in sight.
Actually, that's not entirely true. There's always the cool
waters of the Atlantic Ocean, which was a pleasant 80 degrees. As long as I
stayed submerged, all was well.
It got me thinking about that other staple of life in the deep
South--alligators. They've got it figured out. I saw quite a few in the
marshes, poking their noses out of the water for a breath of fresh air,
their bodies comfortably underwater, where the smart reptiles reside.
The alligators are everywhere, especially around the golf
courses, where houses are courageously built only steps away from the ponds
where the alligators hang out. I loved the posted signs:
"DANGER/ALLIGATORS--Do not approach, feed or harass."
That's unfortunate. With sweat dripping down my face, and
my shirt stuck to the skin on my back, the least the lovely people of South
Carolina could do was let me jump in the pond and hang out with the
alligators. One thing is for sure-- I guarantee I wouldn't harass them.
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